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“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She cast a wary glance at the curtainless window that rattled every time the wind blew. “Maybe you could lower those blinds for me?”
He moved to do so. “You’re sure you’ll be okay in here?”
She gave him a smile that was just a shade too bright. “I’ll be fine,” she said again.
He knew she was worried about a power outage. She’d made it clear enough that she didn’t like the dark. Opening a desk drawer, he took out a small flashlight and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully.
“You certainly seem prepared for company,” she said, motioning toward the pillow and extra blankets. “Does your family visit often?”
“No. I inherited most of my household supplies from my great-uncle. He built this house.”
“The great-uncle who lived alone until he died?”
He had almost forgotten that he’d mentioned his uncle Joe to Lucy. “Yeah. He died four years ago, leaving me his house and workshop.”
Lucy was already spreading sheets on the couch, her backside swaying with the movements. Banner stuck his hands in his pockets and half turned away, keeping his gaze focused intently on anything but her. He cleared his throat. “Let me know if you need anything during the night.”
“Banner?” She spoke quickly as he stepped through the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. “Would you leave the door open, please?”
He did so, saying over his shoulder, “Keep the flashlight close at hand in case you need it.”
“I certainly will,” he heard her mutter.
She really was nervous. He wondered if her fear of the dark had a basis in experience or if it was a quirk. Maybe she was afraid because circumstances had stranded her here in an unfamiliar place.
All things considered, he was a bit nervous himself. It seemed odd, though, that of all the strangers camped out in his home, Lucy was the only one who reduced him to the almost inarticulate self-consciousness that had plagued him during his awkward youth.
As Banner had promised, the couch was more comfortable than it looked. Lucy nestled into the covers, trying not to think about the storm outside. At least she couldn’t see the creepy, ice-covered branches swaying now that Banner had closed the blinds.
He had left a dim light on in the kitchen, which provided enough illumination to make her reasonably comfortable. She wondered if he always kept that particular bulb burning at night, or if he’d left it on because she had told him the dark made her nervous.
To reassure herself, she slid a hand under her pillow, touching the flashlight he had provided her with. He really was trying to be a good host in his own awkward way, she thought with a slight smile.
She wondered why a young, good-looking guy like him lived alone out here in the back of nowhere. She wondered why he wasn’t joining his family for Christmas. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. And as she drifted into the first stages of sleep, she wondered if he wanted one….
The sound of someone breathing deeply, heavily in her ear brought her eyes open in a hurry. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw a big, dark form looming over her, so close to her face she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said a moment later, not sure if she was relieved.
Hulk laid his shaggy head on her arm. Moving clumsily, she patted him with her other hand. “I know I’m on your couch, but I’m not moving,” she said. “You’ll have to take the floor if you’re sleeping in here.”
He sighed deeply, then removed his head from her arm, curled up on the braided rug in front of the couch and was soon snoring.
That dog was downright spooky, Lucy thought, shaking her head as she settled into her pillow again. But then, Hulk’s owner wasn’t exactly ordinary.
The power went out just as she closed her eyes again. There wasn’t a warning flicker this time, not even a hard gust of wind. Everything just quietly went dark. Pitch-dark.
Lucy sat up with a gasp. She couldn’t see the doorway into the kitchen now. Without the background noises of the heater and other electric appliances, the house was completely silent. She could hear the wind and ice outside, and occasional sharp cracks that she knew were more tree branches snapping.
She hadn’t heard the branch that had taken down the power lines.
Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to see through the inky blackness. She was growing disoriented, unsure now exactly where the door was. The sounds from outside seemed to grow louder and eerier. Creaks and pops and groans—strange noises in a strange place.
“Hulk?” she whispered, reaching unsteadily for the dog. Even his presence would be comforting now. But he wasn’t there. The shaggy mutt had slipped out as stealthily as he had entered earlier, leaving Lucy alone in the dark.
Drawing a deep breath to calm herself, she remembered the flashlight under her pillow. It must have been panic that had driven it from her mind before, she thought sheepishly, making a dive for it. She felt better immediately when her fingers closed around the metal cylinder. And then she cursed beneath her breath when she fumbled to find the button that would turn it on. She should have figured out how to work it before the lights went out, she chided herself.
A thin beam of light swept over her, settling on her hands. “Twist the top to turn it on,” Banner said from across the room.
Following his instructions, she sighed in relief when her efforts turned the flashlight on. The light hit her full in the eyes, making her squint, but that was okay. As long as she had light, she thought, aiming the flashlight toward Banner’s legs. She didn’t want to blind him, too.
She saw now that his dog stood close beside him. Surely that beast wasn’t afraid of the dark.
“Are you okay?” Banner asked quietly.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She wished her voice hadn’t quavered.
He moved a few steps closer to the couch. “You don’t sound fine.”
“No, really, I’m okay. We knew the power would go out.”
“It’s going to get cold in here. You’ll probably want to bring your pillow and blankets and sleep in front of the fire.”
That sounded like a good plan. Fire gave off both heat and light. She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. She still wore her sweater, jeans and socks, so she didn’t have to worry about modesty. Awkwardly gathering her pillow and blankets while still balancing the flashlight, she took a step toward Banner—and promptly tripped over one of the blankets.
Banner caught her before she could hit the floor. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him, and she became aware of exactly how strong that slim body of his really was. Woodworking seemed to be very good for building muscles, she thought a bit dreamily.
“You okay?” His deep voice was very close to her ear as he bent his head over her.
If her hands hadn’t been so full, she might have been tempted to let them roam up his chest—to satisfy her curiosity about the definition of the muscles beneath his gray sweatshirt.
Except for his small flashlight, Banner’s hands were free—not moving, just holding her. His face was close to her hair, and he didn’t immediately move away. It looked as though it was going to be up to her to move first—before she did something stupid. Like dropping those blankets and satisfying her overactive curiosity.
She took a step backward. Banner’s hands fell immediately to his side, and he, too, moved to put even more space between them. The dog shuffled out of his way, bumping against Lucy’s hip. She certainly didn’t want to risk stumbling again, which could very likely lead to her ending up back in Banner’s arms.
With a very faint, slightly wistful sigh, she followed carefully as he led her through the kitchen and toward the living room.
Bobby Ray knelt in front of the fire, slowly adding wood. The flickering firelight danced across his broad face, gleaming in his thick hair and beard. “You doing okay, Lucy?” he asked, looking up from his task.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Bobby Ray pushed himself to his feet and adjusted the fireplace screen. “I doubt the power will be back on anytime tonight. It’s going to get cold.”
Lucy glanced toward the two bedrooms. “What about the others?”
“The bedrooms are more heavily insulated than the office, which was an add-on,” Banner said. “There’s a gas fire burning in the master bedroom, so it should stay fairly comfortable in there. Joan and the kids are sharing a bed and a pile of blankets, so I think they’ll be okay.”
Had Banner made the effort to come after Lucy because he thought she would get too cold—or because he knew she didn’t like the dark? Either way, it had been a nice thing for him to do.
Bobby Ray leaned back into the recliner and raised the footrest. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled in more comfortably, making the chair frame creak. “Good night, y’all.”
Lucy started to lay her blankets on the floor in front of the fire, but Banner put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Take the couch. I’ll bunk on the floor.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. You go back to the couch.”
“No.” The firelight played across Banner’s mulish expression. “You’ll be more comfortable on the couch. The floor’s fine for me.”
His hand was warm on her arm, even through her clothes. She could think of plenty of ways to ward off the cold with Banner—but not in front of Bobby Ray. Her cheeks going hot in response to the unbidden thought, she cleared her throat. “You’ve already made up the couch for yourself. I’ll just—”
A loud sigh erupted from the recliner. “Lucy, will you get on the couch? I’m pretty sure Banner’s more stubborn than you are, and this argument could go on for a while.”
“Sorry, Bobby Ray,” she murmured, and gave in—mostly because she suspected the truck driver was right about who was more stubborn.
A few minutes later Lucy was settled on the couch, and Banner and his dog lay on the floor in front of the fire, Banner in the sleeping bag he’d spread on the couch earlier. Bobby Ray snored rhythmically in the recliner, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the room got quiet again.
Even though Banner had taken the pillow he’d used before, Lucy was still too aware that he had recently been on the same couch where she now lay. It was silly, of course, for her to feel as though she could still detect the heat from his body radiating from the thick cushions.
Something about Banner sent her sadly neglected libido into spasms. She didn’t know if it was the way he looked—or the way he looked at her. It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality that drew her. But there were other things about him: his awkward attempts at hospitality, his low-key and decidedly offbeat sense of humor, his skill in the kitchen…
She couldn’t help wondering about his skill in other rooms.
An exasperated sigh escaped her as she hid her face in the pillow in an attempt to smother that thought.
Banner lifted his head to look her way. “Lucy? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered back, squeezing her eyes closed and ordering herself to go to sleep.
Maybe all that ice had given her a case of brain-freeze, she thought. She was quite sure she would have herself completely under control again by morning.
After a restless night Lucy woke early, the tantalizing scent of coffee tickling her nostrils. The fire still crackled steadily, providing warmth and light, but neither Banner nor Bobby Ray were in the room.
She didn’t like waking up in strange surroundings. She felt grubby and rumpled and disoriented—her hair a mess, her face pillow-creased, her clothes wrinkled. She snatched up her duffel bag and made a dash for the bathroom, wanting to put herself to rights before Banner saw her—or any of the others, of course, she added quickly.
She took a very quick shower, using as little hot water as possible since there were so many others in the house. She was glad Banner had a gas water heater. She spent barely fifteen minutes in the bathroom, emerging with damp hair and a minimal amount of makeup, but she felt much better. At least her teeth were brushed and she had on fresh socks and underwear and a clean Christmas sweatshirt with the jeans she’d slept in.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she nearly tripped over the motley dog that sat in the hallway, apparently waiting for her. “Did you want the next shower?” she asked him wryly.
He gave her a goofy grin and a flick of his scraggly tail in reply, then followed at her heels as she made her way back into the living room. Someone had opened all the drapes while she’d been in the bathroom. It was still gray and cloudy outside, but at least some light came in through the large windows.
She paused to look outside at the frozen landscape. Ice covered everything as far as she could see, glittering like freshly polished glass. Beneath nearly every tree lay a pile of broken limbs, and the evergreens were bent almost double beneath the weight of the ice. It was like being inside a snow globe.
Christmas Eve, she mused. It certainly looked the part outside. But it didn’t feel right, not being with her family today.
Sighing, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.
Pop and Miss Annie sat at the table, both looking much more rested than they had the night before. Banner stood at the stove, skillfully flipping pancakes, while Bobby Ray served coffee for the older couple. Joan and the kids hadn’t yet made an appearance.
Bobby Ray and the Carters smiled when Lucy walked in. Banner didn’t, but he gave her a nod of greeting. “Pancakes?”
“Yes, please.”
He handed her an overfilled plate. “Syrup’s on the table.”
“Thank you.”
So much for little pleasantries like “good morning” or “did you sleep well?” She reminded herself that she’d been confident that seeing him again in daylight, in all his grumpy glory, would put last night’s silly fantasies right out of her mind.
So much for late-night confidence, she thought, studying the back of his gorgeous, grouchy head with a silent sigh.
The others welcomed her to the table. “Quite a night, wasn’t it?” Bobby Ray asked, setting a cup of stove-perked coffee in front of her.
Since the big trucker’s enthusiastic snoring was at least partly responsible for Lucy’s restless night, she gave him a crooked smile. “Yes, it was. Miss Annie, did you rest well?”
“Slept like a log,” the older woman replied. “I guess I was more tired than I’d thought. I didn’t even know the power went out until I woke up this morning.”
Bobby Ray stood at the back door, looking through the glass at the frozen vista on the other side of the narrow back porch. “I haven’t seen this much ice since the winter of ’99. Some folks went without power for days—weeks, even—back then.”
“Are the phone lines still working?” Lucy asked.
Bobby Ray nodded. “I’ve already called my boss this morning.”
“Did you get an update on the roads?”
“The temperatures today are predicted to be just above freezing. There could be some melting this afternoon, but any standing water will freeze again tonight. Though it’s supposed to be warmer tomorrow, it will be after noon, at the earliest, before it will be safe to travel.”
Lucy thought longingly of her aunt’s Christmas Eve open house—the crowds of friends and family, the food and drink, the carols and laughter. It would be the first time she had missed it since she was a child.
She was sure the others were just as anxious to be with their families today—all except Banner, she temporized with a glance across the room at him. What was his story, anyway? Was he estranged from his family? Or just, as he had claimed, in no mood for holiday travel?
“Maybe if we drive very slowly and carefully…” Pop began, his gaze on his wife’s disappointed expression.
“Don’t even think about it,” Bobby Ray said flatly. “I’ve been driving these roads for years and they’re dangerous enough when they’re wet. Add patches of ice and you’ve got a disaster waiting to happen. You saw me hit the ditch yesterday. First time I’ve done that in years.”
To Lucy’s relief, Pop didn’t argue. He merely nodded in resignation and patted his wife’s hand.
Before anyone else could speak, Joan and the children entered the room. It was obvious at a glance that Tricia had been crying. Her face was red and streaked with tears and her lower lip was still quivering. Tyler didn’t look much happier. His head hung and his shoulders drooped as he followed his mother into the kitchen. Joan tried to smile for the benefit of the other adults, but the smile didn’t reach her brown eyes.
It was a very unhappy trio, Lucy thought with a surge of sympathy. No child should look so sad on Christmas Eve.
Banner looked at the family, then reached again for the pancake batter. “There’s milk in the refrigerator. With the door closed, it stayed cool enough. We might as well drink it before it goes bad.”
“We put some of the perishable stuff outside in a big cooler,” Bobby Ray added. “It’ll probably stay cold enough out there to keep anything from ruining too quickly.”
Without saying a word, the children took their seats at the table. Tricia climbed onto the bar stool she’d sat on the night before. Their mother set plates of pancakes and glasses of milk in front of them, and they began to eat without enthusiasm.
Miss Annie studied the children compassionately. “Did you sleep well?” she asked them.
Both nodded without looking up from their breakfasts.
